


The World Did Not Stop Turning

by rainydayes



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hyper realism, Suicide, Suicide Notes, very likely a trigger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayes/pseuds/rainydayes
Summary: "Since we're all going to die, it's obvious when and how don't matter." - Albert Camus





	The World Did Not Stop Turning

**Author's Note:**

> Read the ending others note for further context.

Tyler closed his closet door. He was ready to leave, but school was still awaiting. He let out a tired sigh as he reached for his backpack, slumping over from the weight. He paced down the stairs with his eyes following his feet. His mom called out to him as his hand reached the door handle.

“Have a good day sweetie. See you at five.” Tyler gave her a crooked smile before walking out the door.

Tyler decided to walk to school that morning. He breathed in the cool Ohio air that made his tan cheeks rosy. He looked fondly at every leaf on the pavement as he walked, watching cars speed by. It felt nice, the cool suburban morning. Almost too pleasant.

 

He was soon walking onto his campus, the buzz of students ringing in his ears. He slowly zipped his skeleton hoodie further up his neck in apprehension. He walked slowly, trying to keep his head low and unseen. His face flushed at the sound of his name on someone else’s lips.

“Hey Tyjo!” one of his teammates hollered as they passed. “Coming to the end of the season party tonight?” Tyler grimaced, shrinking away from his voice.

“I’m not up to it,” he shrugged, continuing on. The team’s smiles, faltered.

“Oh, okay Ty. Text us later ‘kay?” He nodded wearily before continuing his way to class.

He wasn’t there for the rest of the day. He smiled when his English teacher gave the class an essay due the next week. He hugged his music theory teacher before walking out the door. He was quiet when he went for lunch with the team. They wouldn’t care whether he was there or not.

Soon he had only one class left. It was organic chemistry and the teacher seemed worn down. His steely eyes gave Tyler chills and he always lectured on powerpoint. Tyler hated that class.

The class proceeded with usual note taking. Tyler didn’t bother to listen. Nothing mattered to him now. He doodled on his notes book, boring himself to tears. Maybe tears had nothing to do with boredom.

He rubbed his eyes with his jacket as the bell rang. He worked as bustling feet ran out the door, leaving him alone in the cool classroom. He grabbed his bag and nibbled at his sleeve, slowly walking towards the exit. He stopped and glanced back around the lecture hall, eyes landing of his professor.

Tyler turned, walking up to the professor’s desk, his heart pounding with every step. The steel eyes stared up at him, a grey brow raised in annoyance.

“What do you need, Mr. Joseph?” the dull voice groaned, his eyes lulling. Tyler gulped, doubt racing through his head. He shouldn’t have stayed; he didn’t deserve to stay here.

“I-i’ve just been feeling s-stressed lately,” he stuttered, his eyes glued to the linoleum floor. The teacher scoffed at his words, turning his attention back to grading.

“Well, Mr. Joseph, you’re just going to have to learn to toughen up. This is university, not high school,” he said solemnly, his usual monotone voice never faltering. Tyler clenched his jaw, his eyes forever trained on the ground.

“Of course Professor.” The professor sighed waving a dismissive hand. Tyler walked away from the desk, away from the building, away from campus. He threw on his hood, zipping the skeleton completely. Cars kept passing, wind kept blowing and children kept laughing.

He came up to his porch and nudged the door open. No one was home since all the lights were off. Tyler sighed, sliding his backpack off and throwing it to the ground. He carried himself to the kitchen, opening a cabinet, and pulling out a small envelope. He placed it on the counter, tears brimming his eyes as he went to sit on the couch. He looked up at the family clock, sinking into the fluffy cushions. It was 4:00.

He got up and jogged back to his bag, rustling through it carefully. He pulled out some sticky notes and a pen, scribbling something onto it before sticking it on the coffee table.

He bounded up the stairs, walking to his room in silence. He pulled out his phone to see it empty messages. The screen glowed 4:32pm in his face before he stuffed it back into his pocket.

He smiled slightly as he walked to his closet, opening its rusty hinges. He reached in, pulling out the noose he tied the night before. It was already tied to the top, just for him.

He pulled up a chair, climbing it and standing straight the closet was quite tall. He slipped the necklace and released a kick.

And no one heard.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this 2 years ago during my Pre Calc math class. I wanted the short to be my reality. Depression is a strange illness. It can infect anyone for any reason and some of us become more ill than others. On the internet and in fandom, we have a tendency to dramatize it, glamorize the idea of dying, or being saved from dying. I figured sharing this might say something to someone.


End file.
